The Italian
Page 43
“So?” I cut into my chicken. “Tell me everything. How’s London?”
“Yeah, it’s good.” She chews her food. “The weather is atrocious, though.”
I’ve never been to London. “It’s just raining all the time? Every Aussie goes on about how bad the weather is over there.”
“It’s overcast every day. The sun is hardly ever out. It gets depressing after a while. I’m so used to eight hours of sunshine every day, all year long.”
“Well, it could be worse. Cold is better than hot as Hell, right?”
She laughs. “I guess.” She takes a sip of her wine. “Tell me about your trip.”
I smile proudly. “I met someone.”
“What?”
“In Rome.”
“And?”
“And we had the best sex of my life all weekend long.”
She puts her hands over her mouth. “You? Had sex with a stranger?”
I laugh at her shock. “Not just any stranger. God’s gift to women.”
“Fuck off.”
I laugh. “Yes.” I get out my phone, go to the photos, and pass it over to her. “His name is Enrico Ferrara.”
“Sounds so exotic.” Her eyes bulge as she sees the photos of him. “What the fuck?”
“Gorgeous, right?”
“Jesus.” She scrolls through the images. “Gorgeous doesn’t cut it.”
“He’s a policeman.”
She puts her hand on her heart. “Oh, please, it gets better.”
“And he took me to The Pantheon and told me he thinks our story isn’t over.”
She frowns as she listens.
“You know I have nothing holding me in Australia now.”
She holds up her hand. “Woah… slow down girl.”
“I know it sounds crazy—”
“Because it is. You don’t even know this guy.” She hands my phone back in disgust.
“Don’t wreck this for me by being all sensible.”
“Oh God, Liv.” She sighs. “Someone has to think clearly around here. It doesn’t sound like you are.” We eat in silence for a moment. “Sorry. I’m being a bitch. Tell me about your weekend with him.”
I smile sadly, hating that she’s not as excited as I am. “It was just really great, you know? We connected, and it wasn’t just because of the awesome sex.”
“The sex was awesome?”